


The king's dog

by hauntedpoem



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedpoem/pseuds/hauntedpoem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no other explanation as he recounted the incidents that drew him closer to the flame. Was it the boy's innocence? His sweet and calm appearance? He didn't know anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Published: 01-04-2013, Updated: 02-16-2013  
> Enjoy!  
> :)

When he first saw him, Kurou Yatogami thought it impossible to kill the boy. He scowled in frustration as he pulled his katana to examine it. At only 18 he was already on his way fulfilling his late master's final request: kill the  _evil_ King. Ichigen Miwa, his master and father, taught him everything he knew, shaped him into what he was and left him feel the sour aftermath of his disappearance into oblivion. Alone and confused Kurou had to pick up from where he left and skilfully show him his ultimate act of obeisance and loyalty.

As he watched from afar as the reckless and fiery Yata Misaki was harassing his prey on behalf of the Red Clan's vengeance, Kurou couldn't decide whether to climb down and finish the target with an inconspicuous blow of his deadly katana.

It was easy to kill, Kurou noticed, as he almost felt entertained by the chase and let go for a while of the silvery reminiscences that threatened to destabilize him once again. As the boy dodged the fatal blows that Yata threw so haphazardly and managed to escape for a split second, Kurou's eyes snapped as if having been closed. Then, Kurou deemed it necessary to make his presence known and fled with the boy who felt so light and soft in his hands, almost as a thread of white cotton, demurely attached to his clothes.

His thoughts turned and tossed in his head, mingling with distant memories and almost forgetting that he was to kill this so called King, who was still a child, nonetheless. Again, just like a dog, he tried to comply, and yielded to the shrewd boy's pleas, only to be left alone on a lonely rooftop, mission unaccomplished. He could not imagine his late father's disappointment.

As he was silently asking for forgiveness from a non-existent master, Kurou could not help but feel enthralled. It was his first time protecting someone and it also was his first time being deceived.

He grew pensive as he reminisced. What was left behind was an order, thrown like a ball at a dog. Yes, Kurou was a dog, and he huffed upon thinking of how they called him the Black Hound,only that now he felt very much like a mutt, masterless and abandoned.

The day when he had him under his katana came and passed as if it was dust being blown by the wind. He became… enamoured.

As he watched the candid Yashiro Isana sleeping next to the strain, Neko, Kurou felt jealousy creep into his heart. As if the cat was claiming what should have been his.

Yes, Kurou fell in love. There was no other explanation as he recounted the incidents that drew him closer to the flame. Was it the boy's innocence? His sweet and calm appearance? He didn't know anymore. The boy wasn't that innocent, being only a year younger than him at seventeen, and as a high school student he was surely exposed to a lot of trivialities that boys his age found fascinating. Kurou even found himself blushing as he thought of the ease with which Yashiro could tease him... maybe unconsciously.

At first sight he has been fooled, but after examining him closely, he realized that he craved Shiro because he could find in him what he lacked. He was Kurou, a no-nonsense and composed swordsman, and the other was Yashiro or Shiro for short, candid yet deceiving, radiating an aura of power despite his meek appearance and lack of self-consciousness. Now he could see that they completed each other, creating in between them the miracle of a self-proportioned monochrome space, always tingling with uncertain desires and muted emotional tension, that threatened to break free whenever Shiro took the liberty of slicing open the well-kept fortress inside Kurou's heart.

As he deconstructed what reason told him to do, as he threw all caution aside, Kurou found himself at ease and comfortable with the role he started playing. He loved cooking meals for Shiro and the strain, he loved watching Shiro carelessly falling asleep on the roof, he loved Shiro's cute expression when he said something particularly funny unbeknownst to him and found addictive the other's aroma as Shiro usually plopped next to him at the table, his hair still wet and his skin feverish from the shower. His mind, dark as it was, was filled with the blankness that came only when Shiro surprised his life once again.

How could he fulfil an order he didn't believe in? how could he relinquish something that made him feel needed, accepted, useful?

A smile graced his lips as he started cooking something special, again. He started discovering Shiro in a new light. He started forgetting the whole ordeal of proving Shiro innocent. He wanted to be wanted, he didn't want to be just a hound, always on the run.

It happened in the most domestic of contexts that he'd ever envisioned. As Shiro entered the apartment without a Neko in sight, Kurou couldn't help but watch the boy intensely as he mechanically stirred into the soup that was simmering.

He watched in delight as Shiro's nostrils revelled in the warm aroma as he left the old parasol precariously on the floor. His ivory hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his eyes, sparkling caramel and undecipherable,still, kept avoiding his. Kurou attempted small talk but it was futile with the apparently flaky Shiro who was now lying on the bed, very cat-like. He and Neko were so alike… so very special… but where did he stand? In between them, or behind them, always chasing them for a wrong reason? He couldn't answer his own question, though, because Shiro already grew bored and moved surreptitiously towards the small table, piercing him with those confusing eyes. He blushed, and Kurou, not knowing what to say, kept moving awkwardly between pieces of kitchen furniture, unsure whether to serve dinner, or stare back. Inside his black, loyal heart, he blushed as well.

They sat at the table, cross legged, Kurou filling the other boy's bowl of rice attentively. He felt weird… as if he was an open book, because Shiro, whenever their hands touched in the process of exchanging plates gave him that deep and hypnotizing look that always made him shudder with excitement. They tried eating in silence, switching glances and murmuring banalities just to make it pass easier. Kurou felt guilty for some unknown reason, his cheeks starting to heavily fill with blood, as the distance between him and Shiro seemed to be reduced by the minute.

As he felt a warm and small hand on his back, he spilled his food from the shock. Sheepishly, Shiro although petting him quite steadily, kept munching on his last bites of food, probably fully aware of what stress he was causing in the other's stomach.

He tried asking what was wrong, but only a mumble exited his mouth as the hand sneaked into his lap, caressing the junction of his thigh and his crotch, leaving him speechless once again. His bold moves settled the pace that started Kurou on his road to his undoing. He tried maintaining a steady face, as if he could not feel it, or almost disbelieving the meaning of the gesture.

Shiro grew bolder and bolder, his gestures more suggestive, dispelling the confusion that settled for a minute over the dark swordsman's reasoning abilities.

"Yashiro," he said between his teeth that started clenching forcefully as he felt the warmth of the hand stretching over his crotch. "What are you doing?"

This was just like him, ruining the mood for everything, but as much as he would love to throw himself head-on in this maelstrom of sensations and unspoken emotions, he needed answers to his relentless questions.

But as if he were able to read his mind, Yoshiro raised his head and stared into his eyes, a serious expression over his face, not breaching contact but despite the awkwardness of the whole thing, coming only breaths away from Kurou's sizzling body.

"You know, I realized that if I'm not going to get alive from this struggle, I might as well try and die without having any regrets," the fair haired boy answered.

"Re-regrets?" He asked disbelievingly, as he observed the other's hand cupping his cheek, as if in assurance.

"Yes, regrets of not living my life… They look at me as if I don't even exist, the people at the Academy... This is difficult to explain, but I really need you to understand this", and with that, Yoshiro's lips silenced Kurou's.

His retort never came to be voiced, as the muffled sound of a desperate and unannounced kiss filled the peaceful, domestic atmosphere of the student's apartment.

The kiss was unskilled and sloppy. Shiro definitely had no experience in this, but his determination could easily compensate. He nipped at the longhaired boy's lower lip with a vengeance, almost. Breathing hard he tried to convince the other of letting his curious tongue in. the moist muscle seemed at the same time shy and wanton, and its insistence shocked Kurou that he gasped into the kiss, allowing more space for the battle to overthrow his nerves and mess with his mind. In a matter of minutes, Shiro was curled into his lap, roaming his hands over his clothed chest and his pained and over-excited crotch area.

The boy panted erotically as Kurou became bold himself, trying to sneak his hands under the thin uniform shirt and smoothed his palms over the sensitive skin of the other's back.

Shiro barely kissed anymore as the feeling of arousal betrayed even more his lack of experience and his mind seemed to go blank. He suddenly stopped his ministrations, looking in wonder at Kurou's flushed cheeks and bashfully lowered eyelids.

"I am grateful for you, Kurou," he suddenly spoke, waking the too-comfortable swordsman from his dream of desire.

And when he made no further movement and lost his initiative, Kurou knew that he had to pick up and continue satisfy this plea of his, by starting licking skilfully at the smaller one's rosy lips, as if asking for permission. He explored every nook and cranny gingerly, trying to derive as much pleasure from this adventurous turn of events, but loyally keeping in mind that he should put Shiro first in his actions, so he pulled him astride in his lap carefully squeezing his hips in his dexterous hands and staring in awe at how skinny the other felt against him. The delicious mewls that Shiro, not bashful at all let audible, sent a clear message to his arousal, making it impossibly strained under the confines of his clothes. Shiro grew restless and started unbuttoning his blazer, making way for his avid hands to feel and touch and enjoy, and this was Kurou's moment to receive attention as he felt his nipples being feather-touched and pinched playfully by delicate fingers. He was simultaneously excited and embarrassed by the shameless uhhs and ahhs that escaped the fair-haired Shiro's mouth, as he started creating a nice and appeasing friction for his member by moving his hips to and fro over his lap. The fair haired one didn't waste any more minutes on useless motions and he went straight for the goods, hurriedly undoing Kurou's pants and tugging impatiently at them.

Icy blue eyes opened sharply as Kurou felt it sliding into his boxers- Shiro took the liberty to ease things further as he panted audaciously when he felt the other's engorged manhood pulsing in his small hand.

"K-kuro-ooh…" he gasped as he marvelled at the other's feel in his hand.

Kurou could die from embarrassment if not for the aching need in between his legs. He shifted slowly, not really breaking their heated kiss as a thread of translucent saliva linked their poisonous mouths and helped the other in the process of shedding clothes. In barely than a few minutes, Kurou was lying blushing stark naked on the room's floor, legs apart, trembling to hide his raging erection.

He could barely look at Shiro who was staring as if attending the anatomy courses. Kurou's virgin eyes averted to the ground, wishing he could burn holes in the carpet just by staring at it.

Kurou could not deny that he felt a little bit excited… maybe too excited for the weirdness that seemed to develop over that day, so he tried covering himself for dignity's sake. His hand could scarcely reach the groin area as it was pushed away forcibly by Shiro's hand.

The look in the younger boy's eyes was wild and uncannily seductive, as if he was so sure of himself that at that moment he could rule the world.

"Shiro," Kurou gasped his name as he realized what the boy was trying to do. In a split second he too discarded his clothes which were strewn on the floor haphazardly, and moved tentatively in between the dark haired swordsman's legs, nudging them further apart.

"I told you, Kurou…" he said swiftly in a whispered tone, I want you to understand that I may not have much to live under the current circumstances and that I want to live knowing that I've done everything that was necessary to feel happy.

His voice brimmed with coherence, while Kurou's mind was so wobbly and foggy that he could barely make sense of what the younger was talking about. He'd never felt this way. He'd never felt looked at virgin mind knew that fucking was short, intense, pleasurable and soon forgotten, not leaving space for sentiments to settle in between, only a vague sense of duty and, or vassality.

This seemed different, though. Was it because he felt sentimental, in love, stricken by Cupid? So now, he sensed he could find in this boy who looked eagerly and adoringly at him, all of him , above and beyond, that he has found a power to attach to, even though that power was uncertain, even though that power was just an illusion… he has found a ''king'', someone to serve, even if it meant rescuing him from thuggish clan members with a death warrant on their hands or cooking meals at home and laundry…

"You, Kurou… You've stayed with me. It wasn't just keeping me company, but I want you to remember me, all right?" The other asked in an uneven tone, as if his sanity was slipping further away as well, being instead ruled by the senses, by his heightened perception from the stimuli of his arousal.

He has found him. The reality and the revelation shone through his being, those caramel eyes piercing his skin and setting it on fire… Then, Kurou understood that this wasn't all about being with someone only to ease a feeling of not belonging, this wasn't going to be just sex, fucking or satisfying necessities. This was an oath… Just like his former vassality to his master and father. to love, adore, protect and obey.

Was Shiro his new master? And if so, would he be a better one?

At this simple thought, Kurou could feel an invisible dog's tail swaging excitedly…

He blushed again, his cheeks aflame, exposed like a gutted fish on the market, only that he was being stared at as if he were some rare being. He was being measured, calculated and admired, most of all. That uncertain hand traced invisible circles on his skin. It started with his warrior feet and continued with his sensitive creamy thighs. Shiro continued his erotic exploration avoiding Kurou's erection, as if teasing him, but in reality, the younger one was growing fascinated by the beautiful body in front of him. He motioned calmly with his hand for Kurou to lie down and relax. Before his eyes, and the darkening atmosphere in the room, the other's skin was the only precious source of light. His skin grew alabaster and smooth as Shiro's hand continued to feel. He rested again on his thigh, breathing hot air and making Kurou moan as if enslaved. He then started tasting that beautiful pale skin, checking for every reaction the other might have and upon that judging which shall be his next move.

Shiro almost mewled in pleasure as his wet tongue traced goose bumps on the skinny, long thighs. He advanced, meekly looking into Kurou's eyes as if everything was fine, as if having him in this preposterous position on the floor was normal, an every-day thing he encountered with satisfaction and joy. He proceeded to lick his navel and then up until he reached the hardened pink nipples that turned from pale to an angry shade of red as Shiro sucked forcefully on them.

He got carried away and they started to hurt, but Kurou didn't show any sign of discomfort. The older boy, just 18 was splayed beautifully on the darkened floor, his hair creating serpentines as he let it free from its ponytail. Swirls of dark silk of his hair looked terribly enticing to Shiro who playfully tugged at it and then proceeded to abuse the swordsman's neck with little nips and bites, leaving small marks on his way. In a moment of passion he bit, reddening and almost drawing blood from the fragile skin, and the other he gingerly lapped at the abused spot as if in apology.

Kurou was still surprised at such treatment. It was not rough but still… strange. He lied there like a puppet, soft with attention, almost growing senselessly impatient as to grasp his manhood in his white knuckled fingers that spidered gently through the dark hair above it.

He grew mad with that unceasing taunting and he barely rested his fingers on his pulsing member that he felt again Shiro's hand on his testes, carefully playing with them and on his already abused neck he could feel a childish smirk.

"Edgy , are we… wifey?"

Shiro spoke it in such a playful tone that Kurou couldn't concentrate on anything but the other's naughty hand who skimmed over his perineum and rested on his small hole.

"S-shiro…"

The younger, smaller man brushed their erections as if by accident, making him see stars and started licking at his ear shell, generating small movements with his sensitive tongue that made Kurou feel penetrated. Another touch in that sensitive area and Kurou knew he would be undone, begging like a puppy.

Well… he certainly didn't expect that. He'd never had anyone, but still... he had an idea of what people did in situations like this one.

The ghost of a touch lingered there, creating nerves to overreact and eliciting small grunts from the swordsman who was at a loss, surprised but unable to ask any more questions. It felt as if his moves were so sure, so ready to set him on fire and please… only that he stopped. Too soon, but he wasn't in the position to complain. Who knew that he, the stoic, overly capable and manly Kurou was going to receive such treatment? His synapses could merely form basic connexions, seemingly his power concentrated somewhere else, on the neglected over-sensitized skin of his cock that now turned purplish and was weeping precum.

As in the beginning, boldness could compensate for lack of experience.

Things got a bit hectic as Shiro started moulding their mouths together again in a wet, sloppy and not as inexperienced as before kiss. He seemed like a fast learner… and he was honest as well…

As he left them both panting for breath, Shiro stared him straight into his icy blue eyes, a serious and determined look in his caramel ones.

"Kurou, be mine."

Then, Shiro, the boy everyone suspected of being the colourless king, turned all his attention southwards, mischievously pressing and pointing his elusive fingers over the tip of his cock, spreading the dewy secretions down on Kurou's cock and then taking a tentative taste of it, which made the dark haired beauty to shiver all over. He couldn't deny that he absolutely adored it, that flick of the other's tongue, the attention, the promise of impending pleasure.

His hands started to gently massage Shiro's hair, tentatively, as if convincing him to continue his ministrations on his engorged cock.

He unabashedly cried with desperation, between hardly contained whimpers, only praying that Shiro wouldn't stop that wonderful tongue. Shiro had something else in mind, it seemed, as his tongue didn't leave him but trailed down, until it reached his crease and after staring and analyzing it, driving Kurou mad with waiting, he teased that spot suggestively, unyielding and passionate.

Kurou was almost coming from the attention, his knuckles white in the smaller boy's ivory hair, pulling hairs and uncontrollably shaking.

And then… he started talking, so close to his members it nearly sent chills on his spine, only to concentrated his mouth just above his manhood.

"Kurou… tell me… what should I do now?"

Kurou could not believe his ears. They already went this far and Shiro was asking him for the next steps? It wasn't even funny, with that obliviously innocent voice and countenance of his. He was a tease, he could make him cum any moment and he was also childishly cruel in matters as intimate as this one.

He puffed air as if blowing some steam, his intensely blush threatening to make a vein burst on his forehead as he pulled mercilessly the boy by his hair just as the latter called him ''wife'' again in a whiny tone and grasped his hands only to nip exhaustedly at the other's fingers, sucking them into his hot mouth.

"This is what… ahhh... mmm… you'll do", he was able to say it intelligibly enough with Shiro's digits soaking into his mouth. He coated them well and then, sometimes biting carefully, as if controlling his intake and without further instructions positioned the hand at his rosy, puckered entrance.

Shiro seemed to catch on enthusiastically as he wriggled his index into Kurou's heated inside walls. He stretched and good-naturedly prodded at the hole, the other's gasps and moans and pleas only fuelling him to add a third finger.

For a moment, Kurou didn't know why he was crying. It must have been pain, but then again, the digits were being gentle as they extended and probed at his now tender hole. It must have been the whole situation, too many things happening in a single day. It must have been his heart, unclenching and releasing his blood freer than ever through his agitated veins, making him lose control and moan with lust, making him want to scream dirty words like harder and faster and fuck me… but he somehow didn't utter a single word. in some way, they didn't fit into the picture.

This seemed like a promising forever after, not just a necessary fuck, not just hurried sex containing feelings of passive-aggressive rage and dissimulated affection. He liked the sight of Shiro working on him, as he supported his weight on his elbows and parted his legs more and more to watch enchanted the other's half- splayed pose as he tried to reach something inside him but not getting to it quite the way Kurou would have needed. The sight of Shiro's spine arching as the smaller boy tried to appease his own erection with one hand and with the other, deftly concentrating on Kurou's pleasure, made the latter take desperate measures.

"Sh-shi-ro…he moaned helplessly as he rolled his hips slightly to adjust those lost fingers of his soon-to-be lover inside him. P-please… suck me…"

And to his surprise, Shiro abandoned his own member and started focusing on Kurou's darkening erection, doing just that, sucking him in the most generic sense of the word.

His mouth was hot and willing and soon, Kurou felt his penis twitch, his veins giving way, his legs collapsing as he tried to announce the other that seemed to lack a gag reflex that he would spill himself.

"Sh-shi-iro-oh…" he panted heavily, mewling with finality as he came defiantly, spilling hot and creamy semen into Shiro's welcoming mouth, allowing him to swallow what he could. His mind went blank, as white as the name of his lover.

With a crazy smile on his lips and terribly out of breath, Shiro pulled away, cum dripping on his chin and down his torso and belly, drawing Kurou's attention to the boy's eager manhood.

As the waves of his orgasm washed away, he roughly pulled the boy by his hips onto his chest, beginning to work on the pink erection he had there. He sucked it gently, allowing himself the luxury of long awaited pleasure, prolonging his state by taking small nips dangerously close to his slit and turning him to jelly, spineless and puppet-like.

He looked him in the eyes knowingly, the other's expression comfortable with what he was doing yet unreadable, the mystery unbreakable between them.

He traced a vein on Shiro's cock and lavished the other's balls with special affectionate touches. It seemed to last for hours, the impending ejaculation revealed only by a soft, blushing moan escaping Shiro's abused pouty lips and that hypnotic look in his glazed eyes. He came in Kurou's mouth, fresh and candid and by turns tender.

He reached to him to kiss those delicious lips and give the other one a taste of his own medicine, thin white and transparent threads dripping from their mouths as they combined their essences in a playful game involving deft tongues and willing passions. Shiro had brazenly and possessively bit his lower lip, semen and blood lingering now on Kurou's tongue.

"Fit for a king... " he said smirking in between after-glow kisses.

He lapped at the boys tighs just like a dog would and cleaned him up with a zealous tongue. As expected, Shiro did not last very long, but enough for what was to come, as they both jumped startled by a knock at the door, signalling Neko's arrival.

 


	2. Chapter 2

They both stopped as if frozen for a second. Kuroh's hands were reluctantly trying to reach the discarded clothes they so haphazardly threw around in their hasty quest to each other's lust. Shiro, on the other hand was quite calm, as if he did not know how to panic at all. His attitude kind of upset him. He started shivering all of a sudden, as if only then he realized the state they were in and what they were going to do. Kuroh frowned. And the grimace etched his features and turned them sour, angry, doubtful.

The knock intensified, and a loud screeching giggling voice confirmed Neko's insistence upon opening the door.

"Oh, Shiro… Come on! Neko's hungry! Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!"

She lamented pitifully on the other side of the door as the boys tried getting dressed as fast as they could, Kuroh mumbling annoyedly as he noticed a few buttons missing from his shirt. How was that even possible.

_That little pale-haired scoundrel!_

He already planned a way in which he would make him pay.

And it would be the sweetest, most ripe,forbidden fruit.

But still...

Neko was cute and obviously very unobservant. Typical for a strain like her. She was the kind of girl… no cut that… she was a strain, a shape-shifting and very talented illusionist that would make a wry opponent if antagonized. But still.. Neko was the kind of girl that would dare running on the streets naked as the day she was born and still smiling and cuddly. That was just… paradoxical.

Again, he threw a dirty look in Shiro's direction who was hurriedly opening the window as with the other hand he tried to fasten his jeans.

That, on the other hand… was a very disturbing image and why shouldn't he admit? It was a little bit tempting too.

"Just a minute, Neko, I'll open, just wait!"

His voice was strained from exertion. And for a last minute check, Kurou made sure that all the dirtied towels and paper tissues were in the bin, safe and hidden from too prying eyes.

Still, he had no idea what to make as an excuse.

"Oh, Shirooooooooooo! I missed you a lot! Did you miss me?"

She hugged him close to her full chest. Maybe too close, because they were almost glued to each other in that deceivingly cute embrace. And Kuroh could feel a pang of unease swirling into his stomach as he noticed her lips touching the other's cheek, her hands caressing and her eyes oblivious.

Was it jealousy? That wasn't good. At least for a swordsman like him. His eyebrows twitched and he lowered his eyes examining the carpet for a while as Shiro did what he knew best. He lied his way out. He still remembered theyr first time face to face and Shiro's balderdash and how stupidly he fell for it. He even started to feel pity.

_Asshole!_

He was nothing like the sweet boy they all thought he were. He was nothing sweet. He was smart and cunning and… a lying little…

"Kuroi? Something wrong?"

Yes, it was him. His pale, almost white hair creating out of his sweet, angelic face the perfect cherub look of innocence and vulnerability. He wanted to slap that face or rather take his sword out and challenge a fight. But more than sure, Neko would jump in and make fun of him.

_Bastard!_

"Why don't you try and cook something?!" He said in a very cute tone, as he patted Neko on the head. "Neko here is very hungry, you heard her… and you know I can't stand having her deprived…"

_You're dead!_

Yeah, as much as he wanted to say that out loud, something else prevented him. It wasn't just the disgustingly ache in his heart, but something that caught his attention and made his eyes widen like huge saucer pans. There… on the book shelf were thrown as natural as rain, Shiro's boxers.

We're dead!

And the situation had to be appeased because if Neko saw it, it would be too late for any of them to make up excuses for not opening the door in time.

And so… he started cooking dinner.

Later…

His face was almost stuck in the bowl of rice as he ate with surprisingly ravenous force. Kuroh, although hungry started feeling nauseated by the whole aspect of Neko who was now full to the brim, cuddling in Shiro's lap.

She didn't mean it. And she had all the right to be there. After all… Neko was Shiro's cat. Or girl. Or strain?

His mind was fuzzy and his feelings all jumbled up. Kuroh ate little and in silence. It was as if the food didn't want to go down and just got stuck into his throat so he had to drink full amounts of water only to take down a few bites. His head swam in a drifting and cozy noise that now came from a transformed Neko. Purring.

That thing… he didn't want to admit he has secretly loved cats for ages… but this was not the time and the place to be contemplating, not when she was finally sleeping. And Shiro, the deceiving, conniving bastard… he will make sure he will pay.

Even later… as the sun went down behind the enormous sky scrapers, Shiro had finally gave up on ignoring the murderous looks that the other boy kept casting in his direction and left the book he was allegedly reading on the sofa. His eyes sparkled with something unreadable, curious and.. understanding that made Kuroh tingle all over. His lips reminded him how dry they were, his hands were colder than usual and that unreachable knot in his neck descended and chained his heart.

Could he die from a heart- attack at his age?

 _Im-_ he lounged and grabbed him by the collar to kiss him _-possible._

Yes, it happened, and it wasn't dirtily innocent as earlier, it was a ravenous, truly apologetic kiss that seemed to be dragging on forever, loosening his grasp on reality, making him forget the dinner incident, the jealousy, the malaise of the lonely moments.

They turned as one facing the view through the window: sun going down, scalded in bloody flames, crimson overflowing the asphalt surrounding the city, dark purple creeping over the sea. Behind him, breathing into his ear, deeply and contently, Shiro.

Maybe it was… maybe it was finally possible for him to have someone next to him. To care for somebody and share. Even if it was briefly, he could succumb to the silent order those radiant eyes cast. He could obey and protect. Like a good boy.

And his beautiful hand took him by the chin… Oh yes, he liked it. That silent dominance, only asking for a time to start manifesting.

And then and there… he decided. He would make him pay, he would play a game and have a master of his own.

The fingers grasping him were firm but delicate, he knew he was inspected, analyzed, yet he felt mute and safe.

"Now kiss me… Good boy!"

And instead of being angry or frustrated, his eyes burnt with mischief as he playfully whispered, almost biting Shiro's cute fragile neck…

"Woof-woof!"

How pathetically romantic could that be? He would know, because…

 

THE * END

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments and kudos are duly appreciated! Thank you for reading!


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